


Trance

by Sauronix



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Actually Just Tipsy Sex, Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Games, Sex Party, Strip Pong, Unresolved Sexual Tension, beer pong, one-night stand, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-11-23 16:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11405784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauronix/pseuds/Sauronix
Summary: Written for the following prompt on the kinkmeme:Gladio gets an invitation to one of Insomnia's elite sex parties. Curious, he decides to attend.He wasn't expecting to see Ignis there, though.





	1. Encounter

Not much makes Gladio nervous. Drunks and muggers? All in a day’s work. Catoblepas? No sweat. Daemons crawling around his Leide campsite? Creepy, yet manageable. A kid sister who has it out for him because he ate the last package of Cup Noodle? Actually kind of funny.  
  
Sex parties, though…that’s another story.  
  
He received the invitation a week ago, and he’s been trying to talk himself out of it ever since. It’s not like he _needs_ to go to one to get laid. He’s hot. He knows it, and so does everyone else. There’s no shortage of women who’d give their left tit to bang him. No shortage of guys who’d give their left nut, either. Long story short, he’s had someone new in his bed every weekend for at least the past two years.  
  
As for his sexual horizons, they don’t need much expanding. At eighteen, he sucked a cock for the first time. When he was nineteen, he ate out his then-girlfriend’s ass shortly before she fucked him with a strapon.  
  
Threesomes? Yeah, he went there when he was twenty. Had a foursome once, too. He thinks there may have even been a fivesome, but he was blackout drunk at the time, so he’s a little hazy on that front.  
  
Hell, he’s been choked out in bed before, not that he’d ever repeat the experience. And he’s probably tried every sex toy in Insomnia at least once.  
  
That’s why he can’t understand what the fuck he’s doing outside a condo complex in the ritzy part of Insomnia, just south of the canal, clutching the invitation in sweaty hands and debating whether or not to hop back in his car and call it a night.  
  
He glances down at it. The card stock is hot pink, and it says _You’ve been chosen…_ on the cover. He doesn’t need to open it to know what it says on the inside. He’s read it a dozen times already.

  
  
_…to attend Insomnia’s elite sex party for desirable singles._  
_Trance_  
_3307-13967 Chimera Crescent_  
_September 23 // 8:00 PM_  
_RSVP by September 20_  
_Dress Code: Classy. No jeans, no t-shirts, no flipflops. Lingerie encouraged._

  
  
Well, he’s here, and his curiosity’s winning out over his nerves, so he stuffs the card into his back pocket and takes the elevator up to the thirty-third floor. As soon as he steps out into the hallway, he hears the pulse of music coming from the penthouse right across from him. He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. After a moment, it opens, and the music spills out into the hallway along with peals of laughter and the murmur of conversation.  
  
A blonde woman in a purple silk corset stands before him. She looks him up and down, a glass of wine cocked in one hand, and smiles. “This is a private event, sweetheart. You on the guest list?”  
  
Gladio shows her the invitation. “Should be. The name’s Gladiolus.”  
  
“Riiight,” she purrs, her smile fading as she bites her lip. “I remember. Claudia told me about you. Come on in.”  
  
Gladio doesn’t have a clue who Claudia is—maybe the person who invited him?—but he shrugs it off and steps inside. The interior is dimly lit, the hallway lined with flickering electric lanterns. A low moan from his left draws his attention, and he turns his head to find two women making out on a couch, their clothes half off. He watches them for a heartbeat before the woman who answered the door grabs his hand and tugs him along behind her.  
  
“It’s rude to stare,” she chides.  
  
“My bad,” he says. “Don't know the protocol.”  
  
“It’s all right. You’ll learn.”  
  
They emerge from the hallway into a living space with a vaulted ceiling. A huge bearskin rug covers the hardwood floor in front of an artificial hearth, where a fire crackles. In the far corner, he can see a pool table. A small group of people in various states of undress are gathered around it, playing what he assumes to be beer pong. Just about every couch and chair in the room is occupied. He hardly has the chance to give the room a cursory glance before his new friend pushes a sweating beer bottle into his hand.  
  
“What’s your name?” he asks.  
  
“Junia,” she says, draping herself across the back of the couch next to them. Her tits swell, threatening to spill out of her corset altogether. Gladio remembers her advice and tries not to stare. “What brings you here tonight?”  
  
He sips his beer. “Figured that was obvious. I got an invitation and accepted it.”  
  
She raises one slim eyebrow at him. “Everyone has a reason for accepting.”  
  
“Curiosity, I guess. I’ve never been to one of these before.”  
  
“A sex party virgin. That’s precious.” She laughs. “Well, let me give you the lay of the land. We have a few rules.” She starts to count them off on her fingers. “First, play nice. Make sure there’s enthusiastic consent, and don’t fuck anyone who’s too drunk to know where they are or what they’re doing. Second, we welcome just about every kink you can think of, as long as it’s legal and it doesn’t make a mess. Third, penetration is allowed. You can stick it in any hole that comes your way, as long as it’s offered willingly. Fourth, no photos.”  
  
Gladio nods. None of this is unexpected. “Gotcha.”  
  
“We have some rooms at the back of the penthouse if you want privacy,” Junia goes on, gesturing to a darkened hallway at the back left of the room. “Otherwise, feel free to get it on anywhere you please. Just stay away from the windows. We don’t need anyone calling the cops on us for indecency.” She pauses, her brow furrowing, and then adds, “Did you bring condoms?”  
  
“Yeah.” He made sure to stuff a few in his wallet before he left the house. “I usually keep one on me anyway.”  
  
Junia grins and pushes herself off the couch, stepping into his personal space in one fluid motion. “Always prepared, are you? I like that in a man.” She trails a finger down the front of his henley, following its path with her eyes. She stops just short of his belt buckle. “If you need anything else, like lube or sex toys, we keep our private rooms stocked. Just make sure you wash them after.”  
  
He smirks down at her. “Any other rules I should know about?”  
  
“None.” She pats his cheek. “Just enjoy yourself, honey. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to mingle with our guests.”  
  
As she turns on her heel, Gladio reaches out to grab her wrist. “Hey. Why was I invited?”  
  
She raises an eyebrow. “Because you’re beautiful.” And then she goes, her heels clicking on the floor.  
  
Standing around awkwardly is something Gladio never does, but now, as he sips at his beer and watches a couple suck each other’s faces on the bearskin rug near the fire, he’s pretty sure this qualifies. He shifts his gaze away from them, seeking someone—anyone—he can talk to. There’s a woman lounging on the chair next to the rug, but she’s gazing intently at her phone, so he doesn’t think she’ll be receptive to small talk.  
  
A trio sits on the couch adjacent to him. They look like they’re having a serious conversation—negotiating a threesome, maybe. Better not interrupt that.  
  
His gaze slides to the couch across from them. It’s occupied by a man and a woman who are leaning into each other, speaking intimately as they share a bottle of wine. Her brown hair tumbles around her shoulders in waves. Gladio watches as the man laughs and tucks a lock of it back behind her ear.  
  
And then he looks at the man’s face.  
  
Oh.  
  
Oh, _fuck_.  
  
Face heating, he darts behind a potted plant and cranes his neck, hoping beyond hope he’s imagining things. He takes in the pinstripe dress shirt, the shock of chestnut hair gelled upright, the slender frames of the man’s glasses. His pulse rises.  
  
Yeah, he’s not imagining anything.  
  
That’s Ignis.  
  
Shit. He never thought he’d run into someone he knows here, much less Noct’s stuffy, straitlaced advisor. Gladio has always assumed the only action he gets is the fifteen-inch stick up his ass. To be fair, he doesn’t really _know_ Ignis, since they don’t have much cause to interact, but from what he gathers, Ignis doesn’t really have a life. He eats, sleeps, and breathes his duties to Noct. So what the hell is he doing here?  
  
Astrals, he needs to get his ass out of here. Now.  
  
He backs up, hugging the wall, hoping against hope that Ignis won’t turn around and see him. That’s the last thing he needs. Not that he’s worried Ignis will go blabbing it around the Citadel, but just knowing Ignis saw him here would chafe. It would chafe a hell of a lot.  
  
He turns and walks right into Junia.  
  
“Where are you going, honey?” she asks, placing a hand on his chest to steady herself. “You’re not leaving so soon, are you?”  
  
“Yeah, I actually forgot I, uh…” He trails off. Dammit, he can’t even think of an excuse.  
  
Junia just rolls her eyes at him and takes him by the arm. “You can’t leave yet. You haven’t even met Claudia. She’d be so sad if she found out you didn’t like the party.”  
  
Before Gladio can protest, before he can even really register what the fuck’s going on, she marches him right over to the couch where Ignis is sitting. The woman—Claudia, probably—looks up at the interruption, her face breaking into a delighted grin. Ignis follows her gaze, and his easy smile freezes into a rictus, even as Gladio’s heart gallops in his chest.  
  
“Claud, I want you to meet Gladiolus Amicitia,” Junia says, her hand squeezing Gladio’s arm. “He was just trying to sneak out, but I told him he had to meet you first.”  
  
“Sneak out?” Claudia echoes. She sets down her wine glass on the coffee table and rises, taking Gladio’s hands in her own. Like Junia, she’s wearing a corset, though hers is green. “Why on Eos would you do that? The party’s hardly begun.”  
  
Gladio can only shake his head. Would it be such a bad thing if he flung himself out the window right now? Would it?  
  
“You know, we don’t invite just anyone to our parties,” Claudia says. “We only invite Insomnia’s most attractive singles. And we’ve heard—“ She glances at Junia, and they share a knowing smile. “—rumours about your exploits.”  
  
“Rumours?” Gladio says stupidly.  
  
“We thought you’d feel right at home here,” Junia says. “So what’s the problem?”  
  
It’s too much. Gladio looks at Ignis. He’s still wearing that gods-awful strained smile. “Can I talk to you? Privately?”  
  
Junia puts a hand to her mouth. “You know each other?”  
  
“After a fashion,” Ignis says stiffly.  
  
Junia and Claudia share a giggle. Did they know this would happen? No. There’s no way.  
  
“Excuse us,” he says.  
  
He grabs Ignis by the arm and manhandles him toward the private rooms Junia told him about earlier. Fucking Six. He’s about to have the most awkward conversation of his life, with Ignis fucking Scientia, while surrounded by dildos. Again, he considers throwing himself out the window.  
  
Once they’re out of earshot, Ignis jerks his arm from Gladio’s grasp with an annoyed tut. “I can walk,” he snaps.  
  
Gladio ignores him, poking his head into the first empty room he comes across. He flicks on the light switch and enters, motioning Ignis in after him before he closes the door.  
  
As bedrooms go, it’s nondescript. There’s a four-poster bed covered in a black duvet, and a chest of drawers against the wall across from it. That’s probably where the sex toys live. On the bedside table, a small basket overflows with condoms. Gladio looks at it, then glances away, fixing his gaze on Ignis instead.  
  
“So,” Ignis says.  
  
“So.”  
  
Ignis crosses his arms, tension written in every line of his body, like a small animal readying itself to flee. “What did you want to discuss with me?”  
  
Gladio licks his lips. Now that they’re here, he doesn’t even know what the hell he wants to say. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I accepted an invitation.”  
  
“Yeah, I get that.” Gladio starts to pace, rubbing his right temple. “But why are you here? Shouldn’t you be cooking dinner for Noct or something?”  
  
“I fixed his supper before I came,” Ignis says coolly.  
  
Shiva’s tits, they’re getting nowhere with this. “But this isn’t your kind of thing,” he blurts out. “I mean, you don’t have casual sex. Do you? When the hell do you find the time?”  
  
The expression on Ignis’s face shifts almost imperceptibly from cold anger to wounded fury. “Don’t you dare presume to know anything about me.”  
  
Gladio raises his hands. He probably shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that before tonight, he never could have imagined Ignis flirting with a woman in a corset, much less fucking one. And even though he’s seen it—well, the flirting part, anyway—he’s still having trouble coming to terms with it. “Okay, okay. Sorry. That was uncalled for.”  
  
“I’m not sure what else you want me to say, Gladio. I’m a human being, just as you are. I have needs and desires too.”  
  
They look at each other from across the bed, and shit, Ignis has a point. To Gladio, Ignis has always seemed superhuman—robotic, frigid, sexless. Worse, he assumed everyone, including Ignis himself, saw him the same way. And it’s hard to reconcile those assumptions with the Ignis standing in front of him right now—Ignis, with the top two buttons of his shirt open and a flush creeping up his chest, his green eyes bright with anger.  
  
Ignis, who actually…looks kind of sexy.  
  
Gladio isn’t sure what to do with that thought, so he breaks eye contact. “Sorry,” he says. “I was just embarrassed. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone I know here, much less you.”  
  
“I assure you the feeling is mutual.”  
  
“I’ll go.” Gladio runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “Didn’t mean to ruin your night.”  
  
Some of the tension leaves Ignis’s shoulders. “You don’t have to leave, Gladio.”  
  
“It’s gonna be awkward as hell if we both stay.”  
  
“Then I’ll go,” Ignis says.  
  
Gladio smirks. “It looked like you and that Claudia chick were getting pretty cozy. Wouldn’t wanna get in the way of you hitting it.”  
  
Ignis actually rolls his eyes. “Unlike you, I’m not interested in bedding every warm body that crosses my path. We were just talking. Whether or not I sleep with her tonight is of no consequence to me.”  
  
“That why you were tucking her hair behind her ear?”  
  
“I sow the seeds. That doesn’t mean I have to reap them.”  
  
Gladio waves a hand. “Whatever you say.”  
  
“So it’s agreed, then?” Ignis folds his arms across his chest, raising one eyebrow. “We’ll both stay? We already know each other’s dirty little secret. As long as we avoid each other for the rest of the evening, it shouldn’t be a problem.”  
  
He’s still not totally comfortable with Ignis knowing he’s fucking someone under the same roof, but he came all this way, and he doesn’t really want to leave.  
  
“Yeah,” he says, nodding slowly. “Sounds good.”  
  
There’s nothing else to talk about. Ignis slips past him and out the door, leaving Gladio alone in the room. For a second, he just stands there, revisiting the image of Ignis’s throat bared in the open collar of his shirt. Then he laughs at himself and brings his beer bottle to his lips. Ifrit’s balls.  
  
Maybe Ignis was right. Maybe he is interested in bedding every warm body that crosses his path.  
  
He’s examining the collection sex toys in the top drawer of the dresser—a pair of fluffy leopard-print handcuffs; a ball gag; a veined, twelve-inch, hot pink dildo—when Claudia pops her head into the room. She smiles when she sees him.  
  
“There you are,” she says. She trots over and grabs his hand. “We need someone to play strip pong. Almost everyone else has had their turn.”  
  
Reluctantly, Gladio lets her tow him toward the door. “I dunno. Not sure I’m in the mood yet.”  
  
“Well, that’s the point of the strip pong.” She twines her arm through his as she walks him across the penthouse, toward the pool table beyond the living room. “It’ll get you in the mood.” As they pass the liquor cabinet, she grabs two shot glasses full of an amber liquid and thrusts them into his hands. “Whiskey. Knock ‘em back, tiger.”  
  
Sighing, he obliges. The booze settles like a hot iron in the pit of his belly, warming him, but it’s not enough to get him drunk. Not even enough to get him buzzed. He chugs the rest of his beer and accepts another bottle when she hands it to him.  
  
Then he turns, and finds Ignis waiting for him at the pool table.  
  
“Aw, fuck,” he says.  
  
“Indeed,” Ignis agrees, voice stiff. He looks at Claudia. “Is there no one else available to play?”  
  
Claudia waves a dismissive hand at him. “Don’t be a couple of party poopers. It’s just a game. You don’t have to fuck each other at the end of it.”  
  
Gladio groans as she pushes him toward the empty end of the table. As soon as he’s in position, she gives him a permanent marker and gestures at the stack of plastic cups on the table in front of him.  
  
“Write down every article of clothing you’re wearing and arrange the cups in a triangle. The less revealing articles of clothing should be at the foot of the triangle, closest to Ignis. Your underwear should be at the top of the triangle, closest to you,” she explains.  
  
Gladio pops the cap of the marker and thinks about what he’s wearing. Shoes. Socks. Dress pants. Belt. Henley. Undershirt. Underwear. He writes each of them down and arranges them in a triangle, like Claudia instructed, wishing he’d thought to put on a few more layers before leaving the house.  
  
Claudia places a line of shot glasses on the edge of the table and pours whiskey into each. “I’m going to ask you a question at the start of every round. If you’ve done the sex act specified, you have to take a shot.”  
  
Gladio glances at the cups in front of Ignis—there are seven, just like his own—and then dares to meet Ignis’s eyes. There’s a flush on his cheeks. From excitement? Or shame?  
  
“Are we ready?” Claudia asks.  
  
Gladio nods. So does Ignis.  
  
“Then let’s get started. We’ll go five rounds.” She clears her throat. “If you’ve ever kissed another man, take a shot.”  
  
Gladio knocks one back, grimacing as it burns a path down his esophagus. To his surprise, so does Ignis. He’s been operating under the assumption that Ignis is straight, but then again, he’s been learning a lot about the man tonight.  
  
“Gladio, go,” Claudia says.  
  
Gladio scoops up the ping pong ball on the table next to him and evaluates the cups in front of Ignis. _Suspenders_. Yeah, that’s the one he wants. Nice and innocent. He tosses the ball and it lands in the cup with a splash.  
  
Claudia claps, delighted. “Ignis, drink the contents of the cup.”  
  
Obediently, Ignis chugs it down at the same time as he shrugs out of his suspenders, letting them dangle from the band of his dress pants. Then he takes up his ball and throws.  
  
It bounces harmlessly off the lacquered edge of the table and rolls under a couch.  
  
Gladio can’t help grinning. “Better work on your aim.”  
  
“It’s all part of my plan to disarm you,” Ignis retorts.  
  
Claudia retrieves the ball and hands it to Ignis. “Quit bickering. We’re moving on to the next round. Gentlemen—if you’ve ever been spanked in bed, take a drink.”  
  
Gladio knocks back another shot. Not Ignis, though. He just watches Gladio with a raised eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. Gladio returns it with a smirk of his own—one that says, _Yeah, I see you, vanilla_ —and wastes no time in tossing his ball at the cup labeled _Shirt_. It, too, lands with a splash.  
  
With nimble fingers, Ignis starts to unbutton his shirt. Slowly, he reveals the white tank beneath, and then he shrugs out of it entirely, folding the garment in half before he drapes it over the edge of the table. Gladio tries not to stare.  
  
But he can’t help himself.  
  
Ignis has biceps. Honest-to-the-gods biceps. Even in the dim lighting, Gladio can see the delicate veins cording them under his taut, pale skin.  
  
“Ignis?” Claudia prompts.  
  
He tosses, and Gladio has to slip out of his shoes.  
  
Now they’re at round three, and Gladio’s starting to feel light-headed. He’s lost count of the number of drinks he’s had. Three beers? Four shots? Across the table, he can tell Ignis is in a similar state. There’s a flush on his cheeks, and he’s leaning forward a little, squinting at Gladio with unfocused eyes.  
  
“Halfway there,” Claudia announces. She looks at Ignis, and then her gaze fixes on Gladio. “If you’ve ever had sex in public—you know what to do.”  
  
For a second, Gladio thinks he’s safe, but then he remembers that one time he fucked his ex in the back of an empty movie theatre. Grumbling, he takes another shot. Ignis’s eyebrow rises higher. Is he judging? Whatever. Gladio’s past caring.  
  
That won’t stop him from taking Ignis down a few pegs, though.  
  
And not at all because he’s dead set on getting Ignis out of his clothes. No, sir.  
  
He takes a deep breath to steady himself, and then he throws. The ball plunks into the cup marked _Undershirt_ , splashing a few drops of beer onto the felt of the table. Gladio crows and pumps his fist.  
  
“Well, let’s see it, honey,” Claudia says, smirking at Ignis.  
  
Ignis drinks from the cup before he makes a move for his undershirt. He’s probably never shown so much of skin in front of so many strangers. Gladio almost feels bad for him. But as soon as Ignis hooks his fingers under the hem of the shirt and pulls it over his head, his pity turns into something else entirely. Interest?  
  
Yeah. Definitely interest.  
  
Ignis isn’t exactly ripped, but he’s defined. The muscles of his abs expand and contract as he breathes. The low light emphasizes the cut of his pecs. Fucking hell, Gladio has to drag his eyes away from his treasure trail. It’s almost a mercy when Ignis tosses his ball and scores on the _Henley_ cup.  
  
“Round four,” Claudia says once Gladio’s stripped himself out of his shirt. “Things are getting interesting, wouldn’t you say? Tell me, gentlemen—have you ever taken it in the ass?”  
  
They both reach for a shot glass at the same time. Gladio has to choke his whiskey down, his mind racing with possibilities. Was it a guy who fucked Ignis? A chick with a strapon? Or did he do it to himself with a dildo?  
  
Shit, maybe Ignis is less vanilla than he thought.  
  
On their next throw, they both get _Socks_. Gladio peels his off, gripping the edge of the table to steady himself. He’s not exactly reeling at this point, but he kind of feels warm and hazy, like he’s floating on a cloud. The more he looks at Ignis, the more he wants to see him naked. He needs to know if Ignis’s cock looks as good as his upper half. And that’s gotta be because of the booze, right?  
  
It’s gotta be.  
  
“Last round,” Claudia announces. She sets two more shot glasses on the edge of the pool table. “I have no further questions. Drink these, and give it your best shot. You first, Ignis.”  
  
Gladio watches as Ignis closes one eye, swaying a little on his feet, and takes aim. It’s kind of cute, how unsteady he is. When he throws, he misses, and the ball bounces once, drops harmlessly to Gladio’s feet. Gladio doesn’t even bother hiding his grin. He’s got this in the bag.  
  
He takes aim, and scores on the cup marked _Pants_.


	2. Hookup

Gladio crosses his arms and smirks as Ignis hesitates. “C’mon. You know the rules. Take ‘em off.”  
  
“You’re much too—” Ignis closes his eyes and leans a little, catching himself on the edge of the pool table. “Much too pleased with yourself.”  
  
His hand goes to the button of his pants. Gladio watches as he pops it open and tugs at the zipper, as he shoves his pants down with a series of jerking, uncoordinated motions. Underneath, he’s wearing a pair of violet boxer briefs. And he’s at least half hard. Gladio can see the outline of his dick through the material. His mouth goes dry, and he drags his eyes away, forcing himself to meet Ignis’s gaze.  
  
“Are you happy now?” Ignis asks, his cheeks flushed.  
  
Gladio starts to respond, but Claudia claps her hands like an excited kid, cutting him off. “That’s better. I thought I’d never get you out of those stuffy dress pants,” she says.  
  
Ignis frowns. “Stuffy…?”  
  
Claudia just smiles wider and looks him up and down, like she’s appraising a cut of meat. Yeah, she definitely wants to fuck him. Gladio doesn’t blame her, even if her leering is a little creepy. He had no idea Ignis was hiding such a nice body under all those perfectly pressed—but definitely not stuffy—suits. Ignis knows how to dress well, and while Gladio’s finding he prefers Ignis in his underwear, his ass looked damn good in those pants, too.    
  
Shaking his head, Ignis staggers away from the pool table, leaning so heavily that Gladio thinks he’s going to fall down. Shit, he must be drunker than Gladio thought. He goes to Ignis’s side and slips an arm around his waist, pulling him upright.  
  
“Let’s get you some water, okay?” he says.  
  
Ignis groans and tries to push him away. “I don’t need your help.”  
  
“Well, you got it anyway.”  
  
Ignis’s head lolls on his shoulder as Gladio half carries him into the galley kitchen just off the living space. His bare skin is hot where it touches Gladio’s own, and he smells a little like cedar and oranges. It must be his cologne or his aftershave, or maybe the pomade he uses to style his hair. It’s good, whatever it is. Gladio tips his head toward it, taking a covert sniff.  
  
He props Ignis up against the counter and searches the cupboards until he finds a glass, which he fills with water from the tap. When Gladio passes it to him, Ignis drinks from it gratefully. Gladio can’t stop staring at the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.  
  
Gladio folds his arms over his chest and leans back against the counter across from him. “You don’t drink much, do you?”  
  
“I’m not a lightweight, if that’s what you’re asking.”  
  
Gladio chuckles. “Wasn’t implying that. That was a lot of whiskey, though.”  
  
“It wasn’t that much. I’m fine.” Ignis pulls himself along the counter until he reaches the sink and fills the glass again. Weirdly, it’s only his sluggish movements that give him away. When he speaks, it’s with his usual measured vocabulary, though the words come a little slower. “I normally pace myself better than that.”  
  
“Kinda hard to pace yourself with Claudia practically pouring the booze down your throat.” Gladio opens the cupboard behind him and starts rummaging through boxes of crackers and granola bars. He finds an open carton of cheese thins and hands it to Ignis. “Here. Eat some of these. They’ll help soak it up.”  
  
Ignis pulls a cracker out of the box and shoves it into his mouth, sagging back against the counter.  
  
“You should lie down,” Gladio says.  
  
“Gladio, I told you, I’m fine.”  
  
“Yeah? How many drinks did you have?”  
  
Ignis sets the box down and starts to count on his fingers. “Half a glass of wine. Three shots of whiskey. What amounts to a cup and a half of beer.”  
  
Yeah, okay. It’s not that much, and Ignis is a deceptively big guy. He’s willowy, sure, but he’s also tall, and his entire body is corded with lean muscle. Muscle that Gladio’s definitely trying not to gawk at. He’ll probably be fine in a few hours, once he’s had a little more to eat.  
  
“You come to these things often?” Gladio asks, gesturing vaguely at his surroundings.  
  
Ignis shakes his head and eats another cracker. “I’ve only been invited to a handful of them. And you?”  
  
“This is my first,” Gladio says. “Dunno if I like it yet. I prefer my hookups to be intimate, y’know? But I feel like everyone here’s gawking.”  
  
“I don’t mind. Everyone here is after the same thing.” Ignis chews thoughtfully, his hand creeping back into the box. “That’s why I prefer these parties to dating. They’re less effort.”  
  
Gladio lifts an eyebrow. “Dating’s too much work for you?”  
  
“I simply don’t have the time to devote to it.”  
  
Gladio nods slowly, watching him as he shakes the box and reaches for another cracker. “So when you’re not at these parties, how do you meet people?”  
  
“InsomniaMatch. I seem to find good fortune there.”  
  
Gladio shrugs. “Depends who you’re trying to pick up. Most of the chicks I messaged didn’t respond.”  
  
“Well, I wasn’t talking to the women.”  
  
Now that gets Gladio’s attention. Sure, Ignis has taken it up the ass—he said as much during their game of strip pong, after all—but he was also flirting with Claudia earlier. Gladio’s been wondering ever since which way Ignis really swings. Because somehow, in the hour and a half since Gladio arrived at the party, Ignis has morphed from stuffy to sexy, and shit, Gladio’s dying to get him out of his underwear.  
  
There’s just one problem: the only reason he’s being this candid is ‘cause he’s tipsy. It wouldn’t be right to touch him like this. Would it? Would he even be giving Gladio the time of day if it weren’t for the booze? Gladio’s half convinced Ignis doesn’t even know who he’s talking to. Ignis has always treated him with a lukewarm tolerance, and it’s a little weird that he’s being so friendly now.  
  
“Do you know who I am?” he asks.  
  
Ignis chuckles and throws the empty box at him. “Yes. Gladiolus Amicitia. You’re asking ridiculous questions.”  
  
“Just wanted to make sure.” He catches the box and sets it aside, licking his lips. “So you pick up guys on InsomniaMatch, but you were trying to hook up with Claudia earlier. That mean you bat for both teams?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Gladio nods. “Me too.”  
  
He glances up and finds Ignis looking back at him with an unreadable expression in his seafoam eyes. Maybe he’s thinking too hard with his dick, but he gets the feeling Ignis wouldn’t resist if Gladio kissed him now. And fuck his reservations, he’s about to do it when Claudia pokes her head into the kitchen.  
  
“Hello, boys,” she says. “Am I interrupting anything?”  
  
Gladio jerks his thumb at the empty cracker box. “Just getting Ignis here something to settle his stomach.”  
  
Claudia pouts, her gaze shifting to Ignis. “You’re not feeling well?”  
  
“I’m quite all right,” Ignis says in exasperation.  
  
“Good,” she says. She reaches out and takes his hand. “Then maybe we can pick up where we left off. There’s an empty bedroom down the hall, if you want to…?”  
  
Ignis’s lips part, and he glances at Gladio. He’s seen that look a million times before, not from Ignis, but from other people at other parties he’s been to. It’s the one that says he’d rather stay in the kitchen with Gladio, even if all they’re gonna do is talk and share another box of cheese thins, but he’ll settle for Claudia if he’s not wanted here.  
  
Well, he is wanted, and Gladio ain’t gonna let him go that easily.  
  
“Thought Junia said we aren’t supposed to fuck anyone who doesn’t know where they are or what they’re doing,” he says. He nods at Ignis. “Pretty sure he fits the bill. Practically had to carry him in here.”  
  
Claudia falters, looking into Ignis’s face. “He’s not that drunk, is he?”  
  
“I must admit I’m feeling rather flushed,” Ignis says.  
  
“After all those shots of whiskey?” Gladio shakes his head. “Surprised he’s not hurlin’ all over the floor.”  
  
“Oh, come on. He only had a couple of shots, and he’s hardly even slurring. He’s fine.”  
  
“Don’t think so.”  
  
Claudia tugs on Ignis’s hand, pulling him away from the counter, and he stumbles into the side of the fridge. Even Gladio can’t tell if it’s accidental or deliberate.  
  
“Shit,” she hisses.  
  
Ignis adjusts his glasses, clinging to the fridge as he pushes himself upright. “Indeed. Apologies, Claudia, but I don’t know that I’m in any state to…” He swallows, his cheeks going pink. “…Perform.”  
  
Reluctantly, Claudia releases his hand and folds her arms over her chest, disappointment written all over her face. “It’s fine. Just make sure you get home safely, okay? I’ll put your clothes in the alcove near the front door.”  
  
With one last glance at them, she leaves, disappearing into the dimly-lit living room to bag herself some other prey. The kitchen is quiet in her wake. Ignis resumes his place against the counter across from Gladio, pushing his glasses back up his nose. When he catches Gladio’s eye, he smiles, a little shyly.  
  
“Thank you,” he says.  
  
“For stopping you from getting laid?”  
  
Ignis’s smile goes sheepish, and he bows his head a little. “She’s a lovely woman, but desperation is hardly attractive, is it?”  
  
“Didn’t seem that desperate to me.”  
  
“She’s been following me around all night.” Ignis drains the rest of his water glass and sets it aside. Then he lifts his eyes to meet Gladio’s gaze. “Never mind that. You said you’ve never been to one of these before. Where do you generally meet your…” He hesitates, his Adam’s apple bobbing again as he swallows. “…Your sexual partners?”  
  
Gladio smirks. “Sometimes I get lucky on InsomniaMatch. Mostly I just pick people up at bars.”  
  
“Pick people up,” Ignis repeats. “So you don’t date much, either?”  
  
“I used to. But like you, I don’t have a hell of a lot of time for that these days.”  
  
Ignis nods and absently traces his fingers along the band of his boxer briefs. Gladio’s eyes follow the movement, lingering on the trail of sandy hair under his navel and the outline of his dick in his underwear. Astrals, no wonder Claudia was desperate. He’s feelin’ a little desperate himself.  
  
“Is that why you came here tonight?” Ignis asks.  
  
“Yeah,” Gladio says. “Almost stayed home, though. Figured it’d be stupid.”  
  
“Ah, yes. Claudia alluded to your exploits earlier.” Ignis crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at Gladio. “A sex party must seem terribly pedestrian in comparison.”  
  
“Maybe, but I’m glad I came.”  
  
The eyebrow arches higher. “Oh? Did you see something you liked?”  
  
“Think so.”  
  
Heart pounding, Gladio places his hands on the counter on either side of Ignis and leans in until their lips are less than an inch apart. They’re so close he can feel Ignis’s breath on his face. Astrals, he can smell it, warm and smoky with the whiskey he’s been drinking. What would Ignis taste like, if Gladio closed the gap and kissed him? How soft, how hot, would the inside of his mouth feel?  
  
Would Ignis kiss him back?  
  
He tears his gaze away from Ignis’s mouth to look into his eyes. They’re dark, hooded, glazed. Is it because he’s buzzed? Or horny?  
  
“Do you want me?” he murmurs.  
  
Ignis nods, his gaze unwavering.  
  
“Why?” Gladio asks.  
  
Ignis laughs, and his breath teases Gladio’s lips. Fuck, Gladio wants to kiss him so bad. “I don’t imagine anyone could look at you and not want you.”  
  
“I thought you didn’t like me.”  
  
“Well, I didn’t think you cared much for me, either.”  
  
He didn’t, and he was an idiot for ignoring what was right in front of his face all along. Yeah, Ignis can be uptight, but that’s only because he cares so much about his job. Gladio can respect that. Hell, he can even relate to it. It’s pretty obvious, too, that Ignis ain’t afraid to let loose every now and then, otherwise he wouldn’t be here.  
  
Gladio rolls his hips forward until his cock meets Ignis’s body. There’s no way Ignis can’t feel how hard he is. No way he can doubt Gladio likes him a hell of a lot. And just as he hoped, Ignis makes a small sound of pleasure, his lips parting as his eyes flutter shut.  
  
Fucking Six.  
  
Gladio leans in and takes his mouth. Ignis moans into the kiss and wraps his arms around Gladio’s shoulders, threading his fingers into his hair. The firm warmth of his body feels nice. Coaxing his lips apart, Gladio slips his tongue inside and finds Ignis does taste like whiskey—whiskey, with a hint of cheese thins.  
  
“Bedroom?” he says when they surface for air.  
  
“Please,” Ignis answers.  
  
Gladio leads the way down the hall, back to the bedroom where they had that awkward conversation earlier. He doesn’t even get a chance to turn the overhead light on before Ignis jumps into his arms, his knees locking around Gladio’s waist. For such a slender guy, he’s heavy. Gladio grunts and holds on to him as well as he can, his hands cupping that tight ass.  
  
Kicking the door closed, he staggers to the bed and drops Ignis onto the mattress. Well, he tries to, anyway. He falls heavily between Ignis’s thighs instead, bracing himself on his elbows so he doesn’t crush Ignis. Strong, lean legs lock around his waist, pulling him closer, until Gladio’s body is flush against him and they’re kissing again. Ignis buries a hand in his hair and pushes his tongue into Gladio’s mouth, his hips thrusting up against Gladio’s thigh.  
  
“You sure about this?” he asks when Ignis turns his kisses to Gladio’s throat.  
  
“Yes, very sure,” Ignis says, just before he sucks on the skin under Gladio’s jaw, hard enough to leave a mark.  
  
Gladio groans. “I mean, you’re drunk and all…”  
  
“Not too intoxicated to know what I want,” Ignis insists.  
  
Gladio pauses, propping himself up on his elbow, and looks down at him. In the moonlight that filters through the sheer curtains, his skin looks like porcelain, smooth and unblemished. Gladio wants to kiss every last square inch of him. Why the hell didn’t he talk to Ignis sooner? _Really_ talk to him? Push past his buttoned-up exterior and get to know the guy who can’t hold his whiskey and wears purple fucking boxer briefs under his suits?  
  
If he had, maybe they would’ve been kissing a long time ago.  
  
“Perhaps you might remove your clothes,” Ignis murmurs.  
  
Right. Ignis is almost naked, but Gladio’s still wearing everything but his shoes, socks, and henley. Doesn’t really seem fair.  
  
He climbs off the bed and pulls his undershirt over his head. Ignis sits up to help, nimbly unbuckling Gladio’s belt and pulling it free of the loops. Then his fingers unzip Gladio’s pants and pull them down past his thighs, letting them drop to the floor around Gladio’s feet. Gladio steps out of them and kicks them aside.  
  
Ignis hooks his fingers in the band of Gladio’s underwear, placing open-mouthed kisses on Gladio’s lower belly as he starts to peel them down. They catch on Gladio’s boner, but Ignis just pulls the elastic out and south until there’s nothing between his dick and Ignis’s mouth but empty air. And, oh, gods, is he ever aching for Ignis to do something with his mouth.  
  
But Ignis doesn’t do anything. He just stares at Gladio’s cock, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, like he’s a damn voretooth ready to pounce on a rabbit.  
  
“You can touch it,” Gladio says.  
  
“I’m getting to that,” Ignis murmurs.  
  
Gladio bites back a groan as Ignis closes a hand around his cock and gives him a light stroke. Then another, firmer this time, like he’s trying to figure out what gets Gladio going. Damn, it’s good. It’s even better when Ignis starts to build a slow rhythm, rubbing his thumb over the slick head on every upward tug. Gladio has to stop himself from fucking Ignis’s hand. He’s gonna let Ignis explore his cock at his own pace, and Gladio’s gonna damn well enjoy every minute of it.  
  
But then Ignis bends to slide his lips over the head. Gladio grunts, his hips jerking, and Ignis has to brace an arm on Gladio’s belly to stop him from thrusting all the way down his throat. Hell, Gladio’s tryin’ to restrain himself, but he wants more of that heat, more of that wetness. His cock’s aching for it. Ignis doesn’t give it, though. He circles his tongue around the head, laving over the slit, and glances up to meet Gladio’s gaze.  
  
Thighs trembling, Gladio combs his fingers through Ignis’s hair. Ignis closes his eyes and slides down further, taking as much of Gladio into his mouth as he can. When he comes back up, he swirls his tongue around the head again, and Gladio bites his lower lip as Ignis pulls off with a wet sucking sound.  
  
“Tease,” Gladio says.  
  
Ignis gives him a half smile. “I just wanted a taste.”  
  
Gladio shoves him onto his back on the bedspread. Sprawled there, Ignis looks up at him, still smiling, his eyes traveling over Gladio’s body as he kicks off his underwear.  
  
“You don’t want more?” he asks.  
  
“Don’t get me wrong, I liked it.” Gladio climbs over him, straddling his thighs. “But I think it’s your turn to get naked.”  
  
Obediently, Ignis lifts his hips so Gladio can pull his underwear down and off. His cock drops heavily against his flat belly, leaving a shiny smear of precome on his skin, and Gladio can’t help himself. He really can’t. He licks a path up its underside, teasing the spot just under the head with the tip of his tongue, and laughs when Ignis bucks to meet him.  
  
“Someone’s sensitive,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Ignis chases him as he pulls away, raising his head off the pillow. “So how far do you want to take this?”  
  
Ignis frowns up at him, eyes unfocused. Six, it’s adorable. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Y’know…” Gladio strokes his own cock, hard and aching between his legs. Ignis watches him do it with parted lips. “Do you actually want me to fuck you? I mean, we can just suck each other’s dicks if you don’t wanna go all the way.”  
  
“Of course I _actually_ want you to do it,” he says.  
  
“Are you _sure_? ‘Cause there’s a hot pink dildo in the drawer,” Gladio says, grinning. “Twelve inches. I could fuck you with that instead, if you want.”  
  
Ignis places a hand on his bicep, thumb stroking over his feather tattoo, and looks at him with a sweet sincerity that would be funny if they weren’t naked in bed together. “The only phallus I want is yours.”  
  
That goes straight to Gladio’s dick. Warm with booze and desire, he puts his arms around Ignis and kisses him again. Can’t help but let out a ragged moan as Ignis digs his fingernails into the meat of his ass cheek, hooking his leg over Gladio’s thighs to tug him closer. Their cocks rub together between their bellies as their tongues explore each other’s mouths, lazy and slow.  
  
Somewhere down the hall, a glass shatters and someone cries out in dismay. Ignis breaks the kiss, panting.  
  
“Where do you think they keep the lubricant?” he asks.  
  
“Bedside table.”  
  
Ignis nods and rolls over, reaching to open the drawer. Just as Gladio said, a half dozen bottles roll to the front. Ignis squints at each of the labels in the moonlight before he settles on an orange tube, which he hands to Gladio. And then, as if it’s an afterthought, he takes off his glasses and sets them on the table.  
  
“You do this often?” Gladio asks, squirting some lube onto his fingers.  
  
“Not as often as I’d like.”  
  
“When was the last time?”  
  
“I can’t recall.” Ignis closes his eyes, frowning. “Perhaps a couple of weeks ago?”  
  
Gladio nods, sitting back on his haunches between Ignis’s thighs. “Spread your legs.”  
  
Ignis raises an eyebrow at him, but he does as he’s asked, hooking his hands behind his knees to bend his legs back. From his vantage point, Gladio can see it all—dick, balls, taint, hole. He figured Ignis would be a little more modest than this, but maybe the guy really has been around the block a few more times than Gladio gave him credit for. Shrugging, he slicks the lube over his fingers and reaches down to push the pad of one digit into Ignis’s ass.  
  
Gasping, Ignis drops his head back against the pillow.  
  
“You okay?” Gladio asks.  
  
“Mmm. Don’t stop.”  
  
Gladio bites his lip and slides in all the way to the last knuckle. Six, Ignis is tight. Tight and hot, and _fuck_ , the way his muscles keep clenching around Gladio’s finger is making him desperate to pound ass. His cock is so hard it’s leaking precome on the bedspread. Gently, he pulls the finger back a little and curls it, looking for Ignis’s prostate. He knows he’s found it when Ignis stutters out a moan, his cock twitching against his belly.  
  
“That good?” Gladio asks.  
  
Ignis nods, and Gladio slips a second finger into him, working his prostate like it’s his life’s mission. Sweat glistens on Ignis’s face and belly and chest, and his thighs keep slipping out of his grasp. With his free hand, Gladio starts to jerk Ignis’s shaft, focusing short, quick strokes over the head. Soon enough, Ignis is shuddering on the bed, breath coming fast and hard, his hips thrusting as he seeks more friction from Gladio’s fist.  
  
“Gladio, please,” he says finally, dropping his leg to place the arch of his foot on Gladio’s shoulder. “It’s too much.”  
  
Grinning, Gladio rubs his prostate again. “You want me to stop already?”  
  
“I want you to put on a condom.”  
  
Gladio’s breath catches in his throat, and he carefully eases his fingers out of Ignis’s ass. He sure as hell doesn’t need to be told twice. He crawls across the bed to grab a condom out of the basket on the table, ripping it open as he returns to his position between Ignis’s legs. He’s about to put it on when Ignis sits up and takes it from him.  
  
“Let me,” he says.  
  
Gladio looks at him for a second, then nods, licking his lips. There’s something sexy about letting a lover prep his dick. It’s a different kind of foreplay than a handjob or oral, but it’s foreplay all the same. With shaking hands, Ignis rolls the condom onto him, giving it an extra push at the base to make sure it won't slip off.  
  
“Shall I get on my hands and knees?” Ignis asks as he moves on to lubing up Gladio’s cock.  
  
“No.” Missionary ain’t the most exciting position, or even the best for a deep dicking, but asking Ignis to lie face-down for their first-ever fuck seems rude. Besides, he wants to see what Ignis looks like when he comes. “Stay on your back.”  
  
Ignis nods and reclines on the pillows, pulling his legs back until he’s almost bent in half as Gladio lines himself up. But he doesn’t push in right away. No, he rubs the head of his cock over Ignis’s hole, teasing him as he leans in for another kiss. He makes a soft sound into Ignis’s mouth when it opens under him, and he’s rewarded with a squeeze of Ignis’s legs around his waist.  
  
“You ready?” he asks.  
  
“Yes,” Ignis whispers, running a palm down Gladio’s chest.  
  
Gladio enters him slowly, letting out a heavy exhale as the heat of Ignis’s body swallows him up. Underneath him, Ignis closes his eyes, his face twisting in something that could be pain or pleasure. Maybe both. The little cry he utters doesn’t clear things up, either, but he doesn’t ask Gladio to stop, so Gladio keeps going. As he sheathes himself to the root, Gladio looks down at him, at this man he’s about to fuck.  
  
This is Ignis. Noct’s advisor.  
  
A man he’ll have to work with, and closely, for the rest of his life. Will Gladio ever be able to look at him again without thinking of this night?  
  
“That okay?” he asks.  
  
“Yes.” Ignis opens his eyes and looks at him dreamily. “Yes, it’s wonderful. Don’t stop.”  
  
Heck, maybe remembering this night for the rest of his life won’t be such a burden.  
  
Gladio draws almost all the way out before plunging back in, forcing a gasp out of Ignis. The sound of it sends a shiver through him. So he does it again, and Ignis moans, clenching around his cock. Gladio shifts, placing one hand next to Ignis’s head and the other just behind his knee, spreading him open, before he starts building a pace. He fucks Ignis with hard, steady motions, watching as his hand grabs a fistful of the duvet. The sounds Ignis is making—little breathy moans, then a choked cry when Gladio gets him really deep—are lighting him on fire.  
  
He grasps the headboard and changes his rhythm, rolling his hips in short, quick thrusts, as fluid as waves washing up on a beach. Ignis winds his legs around his waist, locking his ankles over Gladio’s back. They start to move together, like they’ve fucked a thousand times before, Ignis rocking down to meet Gladio’s dick. Gladio can feel sweat dripping down his nose and the back of his neck.  
  
Somehow, they meet each other’s eyes. Gladio looks at Ignis’s parted lips, at the furrow between his eyebrows, catching every subtle shift in his expression as Gladio pounds him. Ignis is probably doing the same to him. They’re watching each other get off, and suddenly, inexplicably, Gladio wants to make Ignis his. It’s not a conscious thing. He just knows it on some primal level.     
  
“You gonna make me do all the work?” he pants.  
  
“I don’t—oh!” Ignis cries out, chewing his lower lip as Gladio drives into him with a powerful thrust, and then another, before he resumes the tempo of their fucking. “I don’t know what you mean.”  
  
Gladio takes Ignis’s hand and puts it on his dick, closing his fingers around it. He starts to guide it in short, quick strokes. “Need you to get yourself across the finish line.”  
  
The heat coils tighter, low in his belly, as he watches Ignis jerk himself off. He looks damn good with his head tossed back on the pillow, eyes closed, the muscles in his abs spasming the closer he gets to orgasm. Gladio’s almost there, too. Just a little bit more.  
  
When Ignis starts to shake apart, thighs trembling as he gasps out Gladio’s name, Gladio fucks him through it, using the headboard for leverage. With every snap of his hips, every strike to Ignis’s prostate, Ignis’s cock shoots another rope of come up his chest. Gladio wants to keep looking, to burn the sight of it into his memory, but he can’t.  
  
His orgasm crashes over him, and he closes his eyes, hips jerking helplessly as he empties himself inside Ignis. Gently, Ignis’s ass clenches around him. It draws out his pleasure just that little bit longer, and when he finally comes back to himself, Ignis is holding him, his skin sticky and damp against Gladio’s cheek.  
  
They lie tangled together for a couple of minutes. Ignis’s chest rises and falls under him, his heartbeat slowing to a steady pulse. Gladio lets out a contented sigh, listening to the desperate, muffled moans coming from the room next to them. Heh. Sounds like they aren’t the only ones who’ve left the party to get their rocks off.  
  
“Gladio,” Ignis murmurs. His hand slides down Gladio’s spine to cup his ass. “How would you feel about coming back to my place?”  
  
Gladio smiles, his dick already twitching in interest at the thought of nailing Ignis again. “I’d like that, Iggy. I’d like that a hell of a lot.”

  
*  

  
The sound of someone calling his name rouses him from his sleep. “Gladio. It’s time to get up. I have places to be.”  
  
Gladio groans and turns his face into the pillow, willing the voice to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. Doesn’t matter what time it is. It’s way too early to be awake.  
  
“ _Gladio_.”  
  
Oh, gods. It’s Ignis. They fucked last night, and Gladio’s in his apartment.  
  
In his bed.  
  
Out of nowhere, his pants land on his face. Grunting, Gladio tosses them aside and rolls over, deeper into the duvet, hiding from the watery, pre-dawn light filtering through the blinds.  
  
“Gladio, I really must insist.” Ignis is standing beside him now, trying to pull back the covers. Gladio cracks an eyelid to look at him. Shiva’s frosty tits, he’s already fully dressed in a suit. “I have to be at Noct’s apartment in half an hour.”  
  
“It’s Sunday, and it’s six in the fucking morning,” Gladio grumbles, glancing at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “He’s probably still sleeping.”  
  
“I have to have his breakfast ready before he wakes up.”  
  
Ignis gives one good tug on the blanket, but Gladio’s stronger. His answering wrench yanks Ignis right onto the bed, sprawling across Gladio.  
  
“He can make his own damn breakfast,” Gladio says, locking his arms around Ignis to wrestle him into the sheets. “You should stay here and blow me like you did last night.”  
  
Ignis huffs, but he doesn’t try to wriggle away. “Based on the amount of whiskey you drank, I’m surprised you can remember any of it.”  
  
Oh, he remembers it all. How could he forget? After they finished defiling Claudia’s spare room, they bundled themselves into a cab back to Ignis’s apartment. Made out in the backseat. Probably traumatized the driver. Stumbled up the stairs of Ignis’s apartment building, pawing each other through their clothes. Made it to the bed and took turns edging each other for a good half hour. And then Gladio rode Ignis’s dick so hard he nearly blacked out when he came.  
  
He pins Ignis to the mattress and kisses his throat, soft and lingering. “Your cock felt good in my ass. I’d be up for another round.”  
  
“Well, I regret to tell you I never sleep with the same person twice.”  
  
“Think you already broke your own rule.” Gladio tugs open the top few buttons of Ignis’s shirt and drags his lips over his collarbone. “We fucked two times, remember?”  
  
Ignis tips his head back into the pillows, his eyes closing. “You know what I mean.”  
  
Gladio takes that as an invitation to keep unbuttoning his shirt. Parting the material, he slips his hand inside and thumbs Ignis’s nipple, smirking when Ignis lets out a moan. “This, from the guy who prides himself on his precision in literally everything he does?”  
  
“You’re impossible,” Ignis huffs, but he doesn’t resist when Gladio walks his fingers down his body to tug at his belt buckle. In fact, he surges up into Gladio’s touch, his hand grasping the back of Gladio’s neck to bring him into a searing, short-lived kiss. “But you do make a compelling argument.”  
  
Gladio grins down at him. “You’ll stay?”  
  
“I’ll stay,” Ignis confirms. He grabs his phone off the bedside table and sets an alarm for eight a.m. “You have two hours.”  
  
“I only need twenty minutes to blow your mind.”  
  
Ignis raises an eyebrow and picks up his phone again. “Ah. Shall I set the alarm for six-twenty, in that case?”  
  
Gladio takes the phone and tosses it across the bed, well out of Ignis’s reach. “Quit bein’ a smartass.”  
  
Ignis looks like he’s about to say something else, but whatever it is turns into a moan as Gladio kisses him, grazing his fingertips over the stiffening cock in his dress pants. When he pulls away, Ignis has that dreamy look on his face again. His glasses are askew, his perfectly-gelled hair ruffled. It’s hot.  
  
Really hot.  
  
Gladio traces the curve of his cheek with his thumb. “Just means you get to come more than once.” He pauses, and adds, as an afterthought: “And then, if you’re lucky, maybe we can talk about dinner and a movie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This guy seriously got away from me. It's about 2,000 words more than I intended it to be. And, uh, maybe slightly more romantic than I intended it to be. Also, apologies for the abrupt ending. These two just kept going and going and GOING. I had to cut it off somewhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and unedited. Apologies for grammatical, characterization, and pacing errors.
> 
> As usual, if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving kudos or dropping me a comment! I appreciate them more than you know. They keep me going. Thank you! :)


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